


well i read about the afterlife (or, alternatively, a sunday morning)

by sidnihoudini



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-27
Updated: 2008-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-08 01:32:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidnihoudini/pseuds/sidnihoudini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a haze, Jared wanders throughout the house gathering the essentials: four bottles of water, tums, Tylenol, and, after reassessing his current position in the day, he empties the office trash can into his office chair, and brings that up as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	well i read about the afterlife (or, alternatively, a sunday morning)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tariana.livejournal.com](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=tariana.livejournal.com).



"No," Jared laughs, falling backwards into the bed. "I'm so _drunk_ and I can't handle this."

Jensen's somewhere above him; Jared is kind of at that point of being wasted where he didn't even realize his eyes were closed until he was nose down on the floor, drooling all over his chin. But it's a nice point to be at, except for how there's Barry White coming from somewhere, and Jensen is _stripping_ for him now.

Which can only mean one thing. Jensen is far more wasted than Jared.

"C'mon," Jensen breathes at him, smelling like Jäger bombs, Jim Beam, and cigarettes. Jared decides he can get a little handsy and reaches up, wrapping a palm around each of Jensen's hips to pull him down, cause right now, horizontal is where he wants to be.

Jared gets his eyes back open and focuses in on Jensen, straddling him with no shirt and undone jeans.

"My _parents_ probably bang to this song," Jared says out loud, which he didn't actually mean to do.

Jensen either doesn't hear him, or is _completely ignoring him_ as he starts trying to unbuckle Jared's belt.

"Why is this so hard?" He asks, voice so loud that the guy in the next room can probably hear it. Oh, wait a minute, Jared is getting hotel flashbacks -- the only other guy in this house is currently sitting on top of him with a monster hard on in his jeans.

Smacking both of Jensen's hands out of the way, Jared tries to tip his hips up so he can see the belt buckle a little better. He knows this one, he's worn it before, and he knows that it... deploys, somehow. He fumbles with it for a few moments, trying really damn hard to get it undone, but then Jensen gets impatient and slaps _his_ hands out of the way before he starts trying to weasel one hand down the front of Jared's jeans.

Which, okay, it works. It's just not as effective as --

"Never mind," Jared gasps out loud, when Jensen starts jerking him off. Until he gets his watch caught in the zipper on the inside of Jared's jeans and immediately freaks out trying to yank it free, which is all fun and games until he just about knocks Jared in the balls.

Jared damn near throws him off as he scowls, looking offended for himself and his virtue as Jensen hits the mattress next to him, hard.

"Oh god," Jensen groans, flipping over so he can try and focus on the ceiling. Jared can tell by the distant look ghosting across his face that he's got the spins. That's too bad for Jensen, though, cause Jared is pretty sure that he got the spins around the same time that they started trying to unlock the front door.

Jensen licks his lips, closes his eyes, inhales and exhales deeply a few times, and then shakes his head as he starts trying to get off of the bed.

"Too drunk," He manages to moan, before dropping off the side of the bed and bouncing back up to his feet.

He runs into the attached bathroom fast enough that Jared doesn't even realize that he isn't still hiding by the side of the bed until he's not.

.

Jared wakes up the next day with Jensen's soggy mouth stuck to his shoulder, and a hard on the size of Kansas in his pants.

"What," He groans, picking his heavy head up off of the pillow a mere fraction of an inch. Just enough to slowly peel his stuck lip away from the layer of drool he had going for him in the middle of his pillow.

Actually, he's pretty sure this is Jensen's pillow. Luckily, at this point Jared wouldn't give a shit if it were Amy Winehouse's pillow, he gently lays his head back down and closes his eyes. Which, well, it doesn't help as much as he wanted it to.

"Jensen," He mumbles, trying to formulate a plan in his head that will end up with Jensen going to get the water and Tylenol. This plan is a definite possibility, or at least it is until he distantly remembers Jensen running a good couple more rounds of shots than he had, and how he almost puked on the bathroom floor at some point very early this morning. Jared has a feeling that he's going to be doing the dry supply runs this morning.

Jensen's mouth moves against his shoulder, but other than that, Jensen's body stays completely stationary. Jared can tell that he's still totally out cold by the way he can hear him breathing in the back of his throat. Jensen would never do that if he wasn't in a possibly still drunken coma.

"Ugh, uh," He grumbles to nobody in particular, before gritting his teeth, closing his eyes, and doing a quick roll and detach maneuver to get himself out from under Jensen. Jensen, who unceremoniously falls into a heap where Jared had otherwise been busy making a warm body dent, as Jared bangs his boner on the edge of the mattress in the middle of successfully weaseling himself out of a terribly smelling situation.

In a haze, Jared wanders throughout the house gathering the essentials: four bottles of water, tums, Tylenol, and, after reassessing his current position in the day, he empties the office trash can into his office chair, and brings that up as well.

Jensen's eyes are open and he seems to be breathing when Jared comes back into the room, one hand trying to work the buckle of his pants open.

"What's going on," Jensen coma-speaks, successfully making his words come out sounding less relatively normal sounding, and more like that one time Jared tried to imitate someone with a Hindu accent and ended up sounding more like someone who had suffered a debilitating stroke. Other than the everything else, Jared had realized very early on that Jensen shared his taste for poor humor.

Cracking the tums bottle open one handed, Jared comes around the side of the bed, and deposits the garbage can directly in front of Jensen's side table.

"Hangover time is going on," Jared explains, standing over Jensen, who is still mostly fully clothed and splayed across the middle of their bed. "Did you puke again? It smells like puke again."

Jensen scowls at him as best he can, and moves one foot an inch. "It's not new, trust me."

"Whatever," Jared frowns, popping two tums back before he hands Jensen the bottle. When Jensen doesn't even try to extend a hand to retrieve this necessary item from Jared's grip, Jared frowns at him some more cause he's got a hangover too, goddamnit, but inevitably ends up emptying a couple more into his palm. Then he picks out the orange ones cause those will actually add to the probability of Jensen puking all over the place, pops them back in the bottle for later, and leans across to place them on Jensen's tongue. "Don't choke."

Closing his eyes as he chews, Jensen lays there like the dead and lets Jared slowly work around him, getting their Tylenol doses ready as he wiggles out of his pants, and throws them to the end of the bed. They stink like bar, and he's pretty sure that Jensen accidentally ashed his leg once or twice.

Still, that's a lot better than the one time he tried to convince Jared to let him give him a cigarette burn, to friendship.

"Move over," Jared says, already sitting down. He gets Jensen's entire forearm with his ass and then lifts up a half an inch to let him take it back.

Jensen makes another gurgly noise, and then Jared hears, "I'm still wearing my pants."

"Yeah," Jared agrees, glancing down at Jensen's torso. It's true.

Sounding genuinely confused, Jensen shifts and says, "I thought we fucked. Huh."

"I think we tried," Jared explains, leaning back against the head board. He looks down at the top of Jensen's head. "Did you eat your Tylenol?"

Jensen nods and starts edging down into the blankets. "Yeah, they were gross. Thanks."

"Anytime." Jared wiggles his toes and thinks about whether he should puke now or later. It'd probably be more beneficial in the long run if he were to puke now. Jared wiggles his toes again. "Want me to take your pants off?"

Radio silence for fifteen seconds until Jensen, both eyes still closed, manages to say, "Yes."

Jared thinks about jerking off real quick, cause he is still half cocked, but inevitably decides that the quick motion would probably make the puking happen whether he wanted it to or not.

So he takes off Jensen's pants and then lays down next to him without even trying to cop a feel. After a second of laying there in silence, except for Jensen's huffy breathing because he smokes like a chimney when he's drunk, Jared shifts forward and curls up behind Jensen, fitting his knees to the backs of Jensen's.

"Your dick is in my ass," Jensen says, after a few quiet, beautiful moments of laying there.

Jared pretends he's asleep already. It's not like Jensen tries to move after he says it, anyways.

.

Jared blinks his eyes back open a couple of hours later, and, after wiping the sleep out of the corners, manages to focus in on Jensen sitting at the edge of the mattress, shoulders hunched over as he rubs at his face with one hand.

"Jensen," Jared tries to say, except his voice doesn't actually work so all he does is hiss and crack. Jensen looks over his shoulder at him anyway, looking decidedly sick-faced and sweaty. Head still foggy, Jared manages to push himself up onto one elbow as he blinks both eyes hard again, wiping over his face with one hand. "You okay?"

Still looking over his shoulder, Jensen manages a half hearted frown at Jared as he manages to creak, "Just peachy."

.

It's tradition to let their hangovers turn into TV comas, which is why they're in the living room a few hours later, sitting with leftover pizza in a box on the coffee table, and one of those E! Hollywood countdowns on the flat screen above the fireplace.

"What the hell?" Jensen asks out of nowhere, and Jared has no idea what he's talking about until he looks over with a mouthful of cheese and ham and sees the bruises all down the side of Jensen's well worn shin.

Jared cackles through the food in his mouth, and picks one of the pineapples that dropped from his pizza off his shirt. He raises his eyebrows and says, "Don't look at me."

"Do you remember this?" Jensen asks, looking at Jared like _he's_ the one who kicked him in the ankles, or paid a set of concrete steps to do it for him. Jared half grins and shakes his head, popping the fallen piece of pineapple into his mouth as he eyes Jensen's war wounds over. Jensen studies the mark again, saying, "Never let me get that wasted again."

"Can't promise anything," He promises, leaning against Jensen's side as the countdown on TV flashes down from six to number five.


End file.
